The Law of the Playground
the letter p
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In the second year of my primary school, we were all given standard edition chunky pencils, which came in red, yellow, green or blue.

Although the teacher thought she was assigning pencils at random, little did she know that she was actually defining our social status for the rest of the term.

Red, red, wet the bed
Blue, blue, smells of poo
Green, green, parasheen
(a totally made up word which sounded like it should mean something cool)
Yellow was casually skirted around cos no-one could think of anything that rhymed with it.

The special 'parasheen' status was a blessing, but the glory could be short lived. An owner of a green pencil could be given a red or blue pencil in the next school term, bringing them back down to earth to join the common folk.

Those on the bottom of the social pile were known to try and colour their pencils in with felt tips, but this only resulted in green palms and being called David Bellamy.
approved Apr 18 2005, submitted Dec 14 2003 by Clare Watson
A more elaborate and good-natured version of simply scrawling a cock on your neighbour's work. Cut a corner segment of blank paper and add your crudely-drawn phallus. When your classmate's back is turned, place your corner of paper over the corner of his work, with a carefully-placed ruler hiding the join. After your friend has noticed the ruination of his work and let fly with a suitable outraged outburst, you can slide the paper away and reveal that it was all a joke. Relief generally diffuses anger, and a jolly good laugh is had by all.
approved May 13 2003, submitted Feb 5 2003 by Alexander Po
Erato, The Creature From The Pit, is the Dr Who Penis Monster par excellence - just penis-like enough so that it's unmistakably a massive penis, and just green horror-blob enough so that children could say "why are you laughing, mummy? And why have your fingertips risen to your nipples?"

Here, see for yourself - to the tune of The Spanish Flea.

approved Nov 28 2011, submitted Nov 28 2011 by Jon Blyth
Something the hard lads at school devoted much time and effort to achieve. By vigorously rubbing the skin on the back of your hand with a two pence piece (tails down was best) you could friction-burn away the top few layers of skin. When repeated enough times this would lead to a much-admired thick brown scab about a cm wide and up to an inch long. One of the more unhinged hard knocks at my school had perfected this art to such a degree that both his lower forearms came to resemble Tony the Tiger's hind legs ... At the time it made no sense either.
approved Mar 7 2003, submitted Dec 19 2002 by s field
See also: Biro burns -furiously scribble a biro in the back of a text book or on a bit of cardboard for a few minutes then press the hot nib into the skin on the back of your hand to give yourself an everlasting freckle.

Some kids in my school gave themselves haggard looking smiley faces. I didn't. I wasn't that stupid, even then.
approved Mar 8 2003, submitted Mar 8 2003 by Alistair Gray
The hardest kid that I know managed to give himself a burn in the shape of a J. His name was Simon. Note that Simon does not begin with, or contain, a J.
Five years later, though, that stubborn little J is still there. Simon shows neither regret nor pride. Or any evidence of really having thought about it.
approved Apr 20 2005, submitted Nov 26 2004 by Bionic Sheep
The incomprehensible way in which Mark Lewis used to pronounce 'penis', and the sole reason that we used to look forward to Geography lessons*. Mark would sit in front of us and mutter it to himself constantly throughout the lesson. Sometimes he included someone's name as an afterthought, but we liked it best when he attached it to a type of stream-bed erosion or the name of a country whose main export goods were being discussed.
* Apart from "Windy" Miller the teacher and his extravagant pigeon strut.
approved Dec 12 2003, submitted Dec 11 2003 by Leigh L.
A construction devised and built by our physics teacher, Mr Ward, out of a cardboard box, with a large paper speech bubble reading "Yes Mr Ward!".
Our physics teacher would ask it questions like "Will you pass your exams?", and then answer himself in a high pitched voice, saying "Yes Mr Ward!", while jiggling the cardboard box with his hand.
One story that proves that the insanity of teachers isn't always entertaining.
approved Oct 6 2004, submitted Aug 15 2003 by Jimmy Disco
All the girls of a certain age got these party bags. We also got to see a film about Becoming A Woman.
It pissed the boys off no end, as they didn't get any bag for needing a shave, or having a wank.
We would, as consolation, share our tampons with them, so we could all play wet the tampon with liquid soap and throw it at the ceiling.
Tampons remained stuck to the ceiling when I left, two years later.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Mar 19 2003 by Name Withheld
My old school still sends me its twice-yearly magazine, and in it I recently read that Mr Sheldon is retiring. That's the Mr Sheldon who formerly gloried in the title Master of the Lower School at the risible Eton-wannabe institution I had the misfortune to attend for six years. In an interview for the magazine, Mr Sheldon said that he'd enjoyed his career, but the one thing he could never bring himself to enjoy was having to administer corporal punishment.

So that'll be why he used to make you spread your legs apart, bend over on his plush red leather chair, and wait, arse up, for long agonising minutes while he stood in the corner where he kept his quiver of canes, selecting one cane after the other, flexing it between his meaty fingers and swishing it through the air a few times to test its suitability for the melancholy duty it was about to perform. He was punishing HIMSELF more than anyone else. And his distaste would be clearly evident afterwards, in the way he'd stand there puffing and blowing, sweaty and claret-faced, agitated out of all proportion to the physical extertion involved in botty-whacking a small boy a few times. It was because he HATED it.
approved Nov 9 2005, submitted Nov 6 2005 by anonymous user
...can I just add to this that Mr Sheldon was the uncle of Bob Sheldon (see: 'Bob baiting'). If you could provide some sort of link between these two entries, it will give readers a chance to reflect on the way in which being a bullying cunt can be genetically inherited.

No sooner said than done, Simon.
approved Nov 23 2005, submitted Nov 17 2005 by anonymous user
1. The teacher's pet can be fisted (punched) in break time. 2. After school, you may decide to fist your cat. Or dog.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Barry Paul
Obscure allusion to homosexuality. The idea is that you go to Albert Square market to buy bananas from Pete Beal, and put them in a bowl. Instead of eating them, however, you put them up your arse.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Pete Beal's Banana Bowl was, in fact, a style of cricketing bowl in which the ball takes a curving approach to the wicket.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Paul Daft
Was it? Blimey.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Yes, it was. And jingo bingo wasn't a childhood game, you invented it when you were 20 years old and in the final year of a law degree.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Paul Daft
Thank you, you can go back to being a solicitor now, Paul. Must you have the career and rob me of my credibility on the internet? This is the only place I exist, you merciless swine!
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Cunt. I didn't even write this. You're putting these words into my mouth.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Paul Daft
June 1987. Sports day. The fifth form 100m final contestants line up on the start line. Among them, Peter Bliss - wearing size 12 rugby boots, tatty grey baggy cloth shorts, a too-small t-shirt died pink in the wash and his trademark NHS glasses.

And they're off.

Ten kids hurtle down the track encouraged by the shouts of 500 kids and adults. But - within a few seconds, the noise falters, withers, then dies completely. Apart from a faint "phut phut phut phut phut".

Peter Bliss, with a furious look of red-faced determination etched on his spotty mug, is running faster than all the other competitors. He just isn't running in the right direction. Nobody's watching the race any more; all eyes are on Peter as he runs straight through the crowd of kids and shellshocked parents, and straight across the empty playground behind.

He runs straight into the toilets. With a big pile of shit tumbling out the back of his shorts.

It doesn't stay quiet for very long.
approved Apr 27 2005, submitted Mar 11 2004 by anonymous user
Victim is floored, arms out-stretched. Someone kneels on the elbow joint and the arm is pumped up and down. Often initiated with the question "Would you like leaded or unleaded?". Requesting "unleaded" possibly led to a less ferocious pumping but probably relied more on the benevolence of the initiator.

And I suppose if the kid started crying, you could all go "thar she blows!" and dance around clicking your heels and whooping, as though youd struck oil like in them films. That sounds fun. Susan.
approved Dec 18 2002, submitted Dec 17 2002 by Tyrannosaurus Flex
A rather more fun (dangerous? fun? same thing...) version involved placing a steel chair on the torso of the victim so as to pin both arms to the floor above the elbow. Then, the heaviest kid we could find would kneel on the chair and proceed to give the poor bugger a double petrol pump... I think at the time of the idea's conception we were supposed to be practicing the recovery position in the First Aid element of PE. We all passed and got certificates.
approved Mar 10 2003, submitted Dec 29 2002 by Rich V-S
The pupil of Ysgol Tryfan, Bangor, who removed one of his dainty stools from the bowl, and smeared it across the walls of the toilet, leading to an assembly in which we were told we had "a very real problem". Retards and pyschopaths alike came under suspicion, but the plucky turdslinging Welshman who wrecked the walls with bowels of folly will take this secret to his grave.
approved Aug 5 2003, submitted Jul 7 2003 by Mr Beret
Interesting how an assembly can be held on the issue of someone (me) shitting in a urinal without mentioning anything at all. For example...
"The cleaning ladies have complained about someone inappropriately using the facilities... and that the person responsible knows what we are talking about mean by that and I hopes it will not ever happen again, because measures will have to be taken if such an occurrence should repeat itself."
approved Aug 5 2003, submitted Jul 13 2003 by anonymous user
They sought him here, they sought him there but the phantom shitter was always one step ahead of the posse.

It began in the October I think, the location was a horticultural college in Kent. The modu operandi varied but the result was always the same. The shock discovery of a turd in places where you really didn't want to make such a discovery. The first discovery was made in an empty bath (on reflection I think this is worse than a full bath)in one of the girls' bathrooms. The choice of this target was inspired, the outrage and gossip the act generated already meant that the Phantom Shitter had attained legendary status. The folowing months were to cement his (or her) place in history.

Over the next few months turds began appearing at random times and in random locations. Often they were contained in a tupperware container, or they were left on a deliberately cleared surface (so to heighten the aesthetic impact one would suspect). The actions stopped in as sudden manner as they started. The strtange thing is that once it stopped, we all missed the anticipation of the next discovery. And no, it was not I and we never did discover who it was. The Phantom Shitter, will however be a part of all of those who experienced it forever. Today, I see it as a kind of performance art.
approved Apr 18 2005, submitted Dec 23 2003 by Monkey Bright
The phantom shitter struck in our school too. After laying a few hum-drum journeyman turds on toilet floors and in storage cupboards, he topped off his career by shitting off a lighting platform in the rafters off our huge assembly hall. The hall - called "Big School" for some reason - is where the end of the film "Clockwise" with John Cleese was shot. To this day I find the mental image of a poo falling thirty feet onto rows of plastic chairs funnier than the entire film.
approved Apr 12 2006, submitted Apr 6 2006 by anonymous user
Ask the askee; "Do you collect stamps?" -- If yes, you get stamped on the foot. A more sophisticated variant is to ask the question: "Do you want a Shakespeare Stamp?" And when the victim says yes, shake him, "spear" him in the chest, and stamp on his feet.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Louis Theroux
Of course, a reply in the negative would result in the provision of a stamp anyway, accompanied with the line "Well, here's one to start your collection."
approved Jan 19 2004, submitted Jan 15 2004 by Mooky Beezle
"My dad's a banker" "I was born on a pirate ship" "Two cows went up the hill and parted" Both are magically transformed if you put a finger in each side of your mouth and pull your cheeks apart when you say them.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Hugh Morrisson, Steve McDonald, Jon Blyth
It's "my dads a banker and he banks all day", actually. And I'm 15, so I should know.
approved Mar 9 2003, submitted Feb 19 2003 by anonymous user
Is it me or did we used to bully 15 year olds who would say 'actually...' in a smarmy as marmite way?

You're right. But it's charming when they say it to grown-ups, like they're one of us! Believe it or don't, my parents still remind of the time I said "I don't see the point of creative writing" when I was four years old. If I heard a four year old saying that today I'd kick the little cunt's neck in. - Log
approved Oct 31 2003, submitted Aug 5 2003 by tony dulson
By quietly repeating the words of the teacher a moment after they say them it is possible to have the poor bugger sitting next to you become so disorientated they start to write down what you are saying, and not the teacher. Once they are hooked, to their surprise they suddenly find they are not writing about the properties of oxygen, but a blue monkey with a huge penis.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Keith Arnold
This means "seal egg" in French. It is a great tragedy for pupils in French lessons everywhere that seals don't lay eggs. Or that you can't ask for one in Paris restaurants.
approved Jan 2 2006, submitted Nov 22 2005 by anonymous user
Meh, where to begin.
A seal's egg would in fact be 'un oeuf de phoque'.
Before anyone else bothers... a)We don't care.
c)Look, just fuck off. - Ponky
approved Jan 6 2006, submitted Jan 6 2006 by anonymous user
Should you be entrusted with the dubious honour of photocopying teaching material, it is incumbent upon you to make asinine alterations guaranteed to cause a giddy head rush.

Your starter for ten: a highly childish assault on the periodic table achieved by inserting the word "Jimmy" after the symbol for copper ('CU...Jimmy').
approved May 2 2003, submitted Apr 11 2003 by anonymous user, Name Withheld
But bizarrely, not the letters n and t.
approved Dec 4 2003, submitted Dec 3 2003 by anonymous user
The wires used in physics to attach various devies to a battery - such as a clock - could be used by those not wishing to become Einstein as a whip. The plastic connectors could, on a good swing, break skin.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by SmallPaul